


So

by Anonymous



Category: Stan memphis
Genre: Other, download no love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Here yah go m8
Relationships: KLOPP/death, grandma/her new jumper, kdb/death
Kudos: 2
Collections: Anonymous





	So

“Is this the right way?” I ask, the man in front of me nods. I don’t know who he is but I know that he has a promise to for full.

It was insanely surreal when I won that giveaway for a season ticket at the Etihad, AND were given a chance to sit and watch a press conference where I’d witness a bald man say the word guys several times and none other than kevin the bruyne.

The love of my life. Sunlight on my darkest days. Only man to ever do it. Only man who would even be given the chance to do it. Only man to ever even have the capability of THINKING about doing it.

“Yes this is the right way,” The man nods, and eventually I see that he is correct because it lies right in front of me. The Etihad itself, I feel as if I’m about to cry, but I decide to save that for later when I meet kdbee.

Kdbee.

The thought of him gave me tingles, the things I was gonna do to him when I saw him in that press conference! I could barely hold my excitement as I was guided into the room.

There were many white people and they all had cameras. I was not white and I did not have a camera, so I did not feel as if I would fit in if I sat among them. So I decided to look for somewhere else to sit and there, at the front of the hall, were some lovely chairs to sit on.

Why’s nobody sitting on them? I asked, they look so professional. 

I sat on the one in the middle, and could see the white people whispering among themselves. Have they never seen a person of colour before? Its not like I was the normal children Pep liked to his children to go to school with. I was about to tell them to look away, but the man that brought me hear was yelling at me.

“QALI NO! THAT’S FOR...” The last part of his sentence was muffled by the sounds of cameras clicking and doors opening.

“FOR WHO? ANOTHER WHITE PERSON WITH A CAMERA?” I asked.

“NO FOR...” And this time I didn’t need to hear the end of his sentence. Because I definitely knew who it was for now. Because he was standing right next to me.

“Excuse me-“ He sounded ginger. Very... ginger, and my plan was about to come into place. I was looking up at Kevin De Bruyne, his skin was so... there. His head was there, he had two arms. He had a neck.

And he had tiddies.

“Sir, has anybody told you that your nipples are phenomenal, Mr De Bruyne?” You ask, he looks confused.

“My what?”

“Your nipples. You know, those,” I pointed them out, very tempted to touch them and tell my grandchildren that I touched the very nipples of the Belgian Pele himself. 

He looks very uncomfortable. My plan was almost ready to commence. Because 

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check up on my favourite ginger goat!” I say, but the question is... was it really true? Was that all I came for?

“Well...do you want an autograph or-“ He asks and then I know I’m ready.

“No thanks, I want something else,” I tell him.

“Would you like me to take a ph-“

“No. I want something else”

“Do you w-“

“NO! I want som-“

“LET ME TALK” He yells at me, he is very red (water is wet) but I’m too distracted by the fact that he stomps his foot. I know how heavy the floor is (I tripped over, earlier, laughing because I remembered that Mo Salah still has a professional career). That floor could seriously cause some damage to him.

“Sorry guys, if you’ll excuse us...” I smile at the white people, and then grab Kevin by the the collar of his shirt. I do not let go until I have cornered him somewhere far from the white camera people. And then I say it.

“Gimme your fucking leg”

“Wha-“

“YOUR FUCKING LEG. I WANT IT NOW” I yell at him, I’m so excited, god the things I’m about to do to him.

“Why do you need my leg-“

“I WANT TO TRADE LEGS SO YOU NEVER GET INJURED AGAIN. I HAVE BEEN TRAINING SINCE I WAS 5 TO MAKE MY LEG AS INDESTRUCTIBLE AS POSSIBLE SO THAT I COULD GIVE IT TO YOU,” Your lying skills are phenomenal.

“But my leg is fin-“

“GIVE ME. YOUR FUCKING LEG. I WILL LITERALLY FUCKING KILL YOU.” 

“Please, maam, let me g-“

“FINE IF YOURE NOT GONNA GIVE ME THE LEG I’LL TAKE IT MYSELF,”

I grab at his leg, turning him completely upside down. He looks as red as usual. But the only issue is that I realised I couldn’t cut his leg off without any equipment. I needed a knife.

“Did you say you needed a knife?” Someone says behind me.

“I didn’t say that,”

“Well, someone did”

“I THOUGHT it, I didn’t say it out loud,” 

I turn around and there he is. The man that brought you here. Except he is removing a mask. And it turns out that underneath that layer of fake skin lay the face of a literal piece of shit; Jurgen Klopp. He is standing there and he looks...  
as unlikeable as ever. 

“Oh what are YOU doing here?”

He explains that Man City live so rent free in his head that he is able to hear other people’s thoughts if it includes any form of hatred towards them. I told him that I support City, but he just laughs. I want to punch him in the face.

“So are you gonna help me rip this man’s leg off or what?” I ask, “and where’s the knife?”

Jurgen Klopp looks me dead in the eyes and chuckles, that one (1) annoying chuckle that he always does. 

“I am the knife,” He says as he takes out his dentures and tears into KDB’S skin until he cuts Kevin’s leg off, “haha, boom,”

But when he says the boom, I realise that I’d rather die than get help from a man named after the song horse shoes make. I ripped his glasses off so he couldn’t see and then grabbed his dentures, before stabbing him in the chest with his own dentures several times and waiting for him to drop unconscious. I twisted his neck (6 times, may I add) to make sure he was entirely gone, before turning back to Kevin, who had passed out and had blood dripping from his hip, that was slowly spreading across the floor. I didn’t bother to clean up. This club isn’t filled to the brim with billionaires just for me to have to clear up after myself. Not my p, not my problem.

I headed home, with Kevin’s blood being held from dripping by some hair I ripped out of Jurgen’s head (fun fact: I don’t think he’s washed it since lfc last won the title). I sat in the back of the Uber, arm around a breathless KDB, and grinned.

God the immoral things I was about to do to him...

And low and behold I did them all.

Infact there were so many that I am only able to compile a list, as words in the English language cannot describe the thrill I earnt from them:  
\- I froze four cups of his blood and put them through a pasta-making machine, so that the iced blood became thread and I knitted grandma a new jumper <3  
\- I cut his hair and put it in the bin. It was too ginger. That’s where it belongs.  
\- I sold his liver to my neighbour and used the money I earned to but grandma a house <3  
\- I had a bath in his blood too. Don’t judge me. Everyone’s a fan of hygiene until it’s swimming in KDB’S blood smh  
\- I went to a restaurant with his torso and I told the waiter it was his birthday. I got a free cake!  
\- I also put his fingers in the bin. Those are the same fingers he had when he said lfc were his favourite club and I do not want to be associated with that.  
\- Grandma says she’s ever so lonely at night so I cut his head off and now she can say she cuddles with the real Kevin de Bruyne!


End file.
